


why why, did i ever let you go?

by funwars



Category: Kingsman (Movies), Mamma Mia! (2008)
Genre: M/M, here we go again (back on my bullshit), it's more hartwin than merhartwin but squint youll see it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 01:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13283622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funwars/pseuds/funwars
Summary: Sam Carmichael, Bill Anderson, and Harry Bright are invited to Kalokairi after twenty years to Donna's daughter's wedding. Except, Harry is there to scout out a weapons trade happening on the island, with Eggsy helping out while he's busy with the wedding.





	why why, did i ever let you go?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zacefronspants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zacefronspants/gifts).



> i rewatched mamma mia and i couldnt help myself. it's one of my favorite movies, with kingsman pretty high on that list as well, so naturally i had to do something about it. im curious how the sequel will fit into this au, maybe i'll write more when it comes out later this year! it's hartwin mostly, but i like merlin too much not to include him. enjoy!

When Harry walks into his office, he's greeted by Eggsy sitting on his couch (normal, not unexpected), and Merlin, standing in front of him, clipboard in hand and talking with the younger man (strange, definitely unexpected).

"Ah, you're back," Merlin says as Harry hesitates by the door, almost wondering if he had stumbled into some private conversation happening in his own office, "how was the meeting?"

"Enough with the formalities, since you've already forgone the most important one, what do you want?"

Harry takes his time setting his belongings down in the way he typically would if he wasn't so rudely interrupted--file full of information he stared blankly at during the meeting on the desk, umbrella against the wall, jacket on the back of his chair--and when he sits, Merlin doesn't hit him with the small talk.

"You recall your mission in Kalokairi about twenty years ago, do you not?"

Oh, does he. He doesn't answer, and Merlin wasn't expecting him to. Eggsy is sitting on the edge of the couch, arms resting on his knees, eyes flicking between the two of them like someone watching an intense tennis match and actually caring.

"The drug trafficking ring has been down for a very long time, but unfortunately, we've gotten word that a highly advanced weapons trade has taken its place, selling to various heads of countries and opposing secret services that don't like us very much."

"Why there?"

"No one expects it. It's old and run-down and the perfect front—we've already seen it once.”

Harry bristles a little at the latent insult, and the two other men notice, but say nothing.

"We haven't thought much of it, since it hasn't been a big enough problem for us to distract from our more pressing matters. But, your address on Bloomfield recently received a way for us to get a closer look."

"Absolutely not."

Merlin sighs and looks up from his clipboard, finally meeting Harry's eyes for the first time since he'd walked in. "We can't send anyone else."

"Why not?"

"Our way in is a wedding invitation from Donna."

Harry pulls the glasses off his face and pinches the bridge of his nose, and Eggsy finally chimes in.

"Who's Donna?"

“Is there a reason he's here as well, hearing all of this?" Harry deflects, nodding his head toward Eggsy, who looks momentarily offended.

"We have to send him in as well, you'll be too busy with the wedding to see through the entire operation. There's a lead on someone running the trade, Eggsy will trail and befriend him over the course of the month before your arrival, since your invitation doesn't come with a plus one."

"Nice of Donna to assume I haven't settled down," Harry mutters in lieu of a real response, the news still settling in his stomach.

"You haven't," Merlin points out, "Not really, anyway."

"I thought you said you couldn't send anyone else, and here you are, sending someone else." Harry looks over to see Eggsy already giving him a small smile, which he can't bring himself to mimic.

" _You_ have to go," Merlin continues, shifting on his feet.

" _ Merlin _ —"

"Did you know Donna had a daughter?"

There's a pregnant pause, before Harry nods his head in the affirmative.

"How come?" He knows Merlin doesn’t need the answer.

"I've checked in, time and again. Wired some money in inconspicuous amounts." 

"So who's Donna?" Eggsy tries again, now standing next to Merlin with his arms folded over his chest. Merlin looks at Harry expectantly, and Harry sighs and leans on his elbows on his desk.

"I—was a younger, more reckless agent then, and it was a quicker mission than originally planned. And I may have gotten... _ distracted _ after I thought I'd dismantled the ring and nearly let the leader of the whole thing get away."

"Distracted?"

Harry just looks at Eggsy, watching as realization washes over his face like a tsunami.

"Did you—?"

Harry remains silent. He can feel Merlin's eyes boring holes into the side of his head. Eggsy breaks out into a grin.

" _ Harry! _ You saucy lil'  _ minx _ !"

* * *

Eggsy ships out a month before Harry does, in much nicer fashion than himself. He fights tooth and nail for his own boat to get to the island, or at least a nicer cab, but Merlin laughs in his ear at his audible groan when he gets in the back of a gaudy red  _ thing _ that showed up to take him to the docks.

He  _ hates _ Harry Bright.

It's not a hard role to fit into, by any means. No foreign languages, no memorizing a job's ins and outs for the sake of a convincing story, just a middle-of-the-line three piece suit and a lack of spontaneity. He just had to know how to play a guitar (which he already did) and how to act as though he was some sort of edgy, novice musician in the eighties. Gross, black eyeliner, absolutely dreadful t-shirts, and a leather jacket with  _ stupid  _ patches and pins was the outfit of choice for this mysterious Harry Headbanger—the only name they gave his alias,  _ very _ creative for an "elite" secret service--topped off with a choker that he winces just thinking about. At least that's out of style now.

On the ride he dissects the information he has. He has a new piece of tech, a more advanced in-ear comm link, because “Bright wouldn’t be stylish enough for your glasses”, which, he can’t argue with. Donna sent the invitation to her daughter Sophie's wedding. He already knows she's not his—she looks nothing like him, for starters, and he may have dug a little into some medical files out of curiosity (and a little too much scotch, and some lingering, worrisome thoughts). It seems odd that Donna would suddenly want to reach out after all these years, given the circumstances in which Harry had to leave.

He remembers it pretty clearly. Having a gun pulled on him in one of the many alleyways, pointed at the back of his head, the hand shaking a little with adrenaline. The fight that ensued, leaving Harry with a nasty shiner from the butt of the gun and the man unconscious at his feet with a broken arm. Of course he felt bad about leaving Donna without another word, but shooting the man would have given him up right away, as would showing up with an eye swollen shut and bleeding. The extraction was planned, and Harry never went back.

Shame, too. It was a beautiful island.

The red garbage on wheels pulls up as the boat to Kalokairi is pulling out, and Harry resists the urge to scream at Merlin in his ear, instead barreling out and chasing the damned thing, suitcases and other crap in hand, yelling for it to come back.

When he’s mimicked by another man, around the same age, he knows it was the right move.

“Bugger!” he shouts, exasperated with the whole mission, and the man next to him looks at him in empathy.

“My sentiments exactly.”

Not spontaneous. Doesn’t have other ways to get there.  _ Right. _ He wants to call the whole thing off, make Eggsy follow through with the mission, but instead he’s following the stranger to look over the schedule. And he knows how to speak Greek, but he still asks, “I'm trying to get to Kalokairi. When's the next ferry?”

The handsome stranger reads the sign in Greek, and Harry feels rage bubble up in the back of his throat, barely compressed when he asks, “What?”

“Monday,” the man says, sounding as exasperated as Harry feels, but for a completely different reason.

“Bollocks.”

“Yeah, my sentiments exactly,” he repeats, and when Harry pulls out the invitation to  _ glare  _ at it angrily, he asks, “Bride or groom?”

“Uh…Bride, although I’ve never actually met her.”

Harry watches as confusion flashes across the man’s face, and braces himself for more small talk he very much doesn’t care for, a voice shouts down at the two of them: “Ahoy there! You guys need a ride to Kalokairi?”

* * *

The boat is nothing special—a step up from the crowded one that left them behind, for sure. Stepping down and away from Kingsman luxuries is therapeutic in a sense, Harry comes to conclude as he works with the other two taking off from the dock, letting Bill act as though he’s showing Harry the ropes (quite literally), sharing a laugh with the two other men. It’s a good way to unwind, and not often does he get to be accompanied by people who  _ don’t _ share the same mindset.

Sam and Bill are vastly different than Harry Bright, and especially himself. They’re both fine company, but the two of them are talkers. Sam’s confident in how he carries himself, clearly a well-off architect doing just fine in life, and something about him doesn’t sit quite right with Harry. Bill’s loud and eccentric—he travels a lot and documents his life, which Harry can respect. Their loud nature completely overpowers Harry Bright’s unconfident, British banker personality, and Harry finds it relaxing to just fall quiet and let them carry on the conversation.

“I know who you are,” Harry sighs as he settles next to Bill on the bow of the ship, an interested smile painted on his face, “You’re Bill Anderson, aren’t you?”

Bill’s grin says it all, glad someone’s acknowledging his “rather shoddily done” book, as Merlin had put it when Harry’d provided names to him in the bathroom of the boat.

“ _ Bloke in a Boat in Botswana, _ ” Harry continues. Pretty bad name, too.

“Yes, I am.”

“Y’know your books are a  _ godsend  _ on dull business trips. Now I may look like I’m pondering my securities but in reality I’m trekking across remote corner of the planet.”

“Well you should try it for real sometime,” Bill offers helpfully, and in his ear, he can hear Merlin laughing into his mug.

“Uh...sadly, I’ll never be the  _ spontaneous  _ adventurer.”

“God, you really did make Bright a sad sack of the ages, didn’t ya?” Merlin quips, and Harry quickly looks out on the ocean to hide his laughter. Thankfully, Sam chimes in, and the attention is off him so he can rein himself back in.

They dock and leave the boat, and it feels like Harry never left. It’s different, sure, more built up but not to the expense of the natural beauty. All three of them seem to have a sense of where they’re going despite being absent for over twenty years, and they come to a stop to look around and wait for someone to help them, overlooking the water from where they came.

“Hi,” Harry hears a quiet voice, and the three of them turn around and are met with none other than Donna’s daughter, “may I help you?”

“Sure! We’re here for the wedding,” Bill exclaims, and Harry watches as Sophie’s face falls into pure astonishment. She doesn’t try to hide it, not one bit, when Bill continues, “I’m Bill Anderson.”

“I’m Bright, Harry Bright,” Harry adds, too seriously, almost as a reminder to himself of who he’s supposed to be and why he’s there.

“Sam Carmichael. You  _ are _ expecting us?”

Sophie looks like she’s going to burst out in tears any second. “Oh my god.  _ Yes.” _

Sophie ends up leading them through the back end of the island, which Harry has to act hesitant about. He remembers trailing a man through the cracks and the shadows, heartbeat pounding in his ears, the old Merlin’s voice in his head telling him how much longer it would be until they got to the suspected hideout for the whole operation. He shakes out of it and puts on his best “I’ve never lifted more than fifteen kilos before” act, being led into the old goat house by Sophie and told to go up into the attic.

Escaping the group to go scope out the weapons trade might be harder than anticipated. Not only is he sharing a room with two other men, he has to  _ avoid  _ Donna and make his way out of a creaky old goat house completely silently. He may be good, but not good enough to avoid wood creaking. As Harry listens to Sophie admitting that she was the one who send the invitations, he watches her face tell all the things she’s hiding from there. Maybe it’s the years of being an agent, forced to look closely for any signs in the faces of the people he’s trying to bring down, but he can’t help himself. He can tell she’s not telling the truth about this being a surprise for Donna--if anything, _she_ seems the most excited about the prospect of the three of them being there. Perhaps it’s the father thing.

And when Donna quite literally falls in through the ceiling, well, Harry can’t say he’s surprised.

“You--you probably don’t recognize me, d’you?” Harry adds to the confusion, and he feels like he can hear Merlin rubbing his forehead in sheer agony. Not his best acting, he’d be the first to admit it, but they changed his cover so drastically that he might as well make sure it’s solid.

“ _ Harry,”  _ Donna sighs, and Harry can’t help the grin that comes to his face, “it is you!”

“I--probably changed a bit but you certainly haven’t.”

“ _ Jesus _ , Harry, did you forget all your training on that damned boat ride?” Merlin scoffs, and Harry clenches his jaw and ignores him.

* * *

They have to get out, which he understands. But in his last sweep of the attic, something in him aches when he sees the guitar. He remembers the fuss it took--Kingsman hadn’t given him a guitar despite everything, something about how wardrobe only had so much, and when the opportunity to buy one for Donna arose, he had no choice but to jump on it. The thing is absolutely atrocious, covered in stickers and bright paint, but as he picks it up and slings it onto his back, he remembers it fondly. Crappily carving initials into it, nearly carving his own, real ones before remembering that this wasn’t him. God, to be young again.

Bill had suggested to sail around the island to get out of Donna’s hair, and before they know it, Sophie is running down the dock, begging them not to leave. She ends up spending the day, and Harry almost forgets that this is a mission. Maybe that was Merlin’s goal all along. He’ll have to thank him.

She’s a lovely girl, and he wishes he kept in touch with Donna. More and more these days, he finds himself closing in, only associating with those who work with and for him. Not that he’s complaining, but he realizes while Sophie plucks on that old guitar that he could have a much more fulfilling life. Keeping secrets is easy, but keeping friends...Harry never knew where to start. And maybe this is it. After all, Sophie thinks he works in a bank, that he’s a family man.

He manages to slip away from the boat after Sophie leaves and they dock it again for the evening, oranges and pinks streaking across the night sky. He taps the side of the glasses, following Merlin’s directions toward one of the alleyways, about to duck into it when he hears a whistle come from the bar, followed by a loud, “Hey there, stud.”

Harry rolls his eyes and walks up to Eggsy, who’s leaning confidently on the tabletop, already holding a martini out toward the other man for him to take. He’s wearing a bathing suit and even that is  _ generous _ , and Harry lets himself stare as he approaches.

“Subtle, Arthur. Not that I don't appreciate it, but, come on,” Merlin sighs, and Harry tucks the glasses into the top of his button down.

“It’s hardly appropriate time for a martini,” Harry comments, taking it from Eggsy’s outstretched hand, coming to a stop between his legs with a smirk, “and who might you be?”

“Name’s Gary. And yourself?” Eggsy’s face is calm, but his eyes are shining with excitement, and Harry feels an awful lot like Bright right now.

“Harry Bright, pleasure’s all mine.”

Eggsy takes the time to take in Harry’s appearance--surely this is as new for him as it is for Harry. Rarely is he found out of a suit, and whenever Eggsy stays over, it’s either naked or sweatpants. Island casual is new territory for the both of them, since the weather never truly allows for it, and Eggsy seems to rather enjoy the barely-buttoned top on him.

“I’ve, uh, got to head out,” Harry says after a sip of the martini, crinkling his nose at the sweetness and making Eggsy smile fondly, “perhaps I’ll see you around?”

“Perhaps,” Eggsy echoes, sitting up to kiss Harry quickly, expertly taking the martini back from Harry and watching as Harry rolls his eyes  _ again  _ and heads down the alley, slipping the glasses back on.

“Enjoy your roleplay session?” is the first thing Merlin says once the glasses go online.

“I thought you hung up.”

“Ah, but I like hearing you two be god awful at normal flirting. Reminds me of the good ol' days.” Harry laughs, and Merlin goes back to business.

When he comes up on a grassy clearing just past the town, a hand instinctively goes to the gun tucked into the back of his waistband. No one’s waiting for him, but vast open areas leading up to something sketchy is never a good sign. The trade ends up being centered in an old farmhouse, with two well-armed guards out front and one in the back. He circles it, getting eyes on the building for Merlin to snap photos and forward them to Eggsy, before sneaking up and knocking the back guard out to slip inside.

He can’t stay long, but it helps him remember just what his purpose of being on this island is, aside from possibly connecting to an aspect of his life he never dared touch with a ten foot pole. Inside is much more well-equipped than the outside, but not by much. He manages to duck behind a crate and pull out one of the tiny cameras to slap by the door he came in through, and gives the inside a last sweep before leaving the way he came.

He jogs back to the party, catching up to the other two men on a sheer stroke of luck. Bill is looking at him in questioning, and it takes him a moment to remember that he’s wearing glasses all of a sudden. He laughs awkwardly, slipping them off and into his back pocket. “Night time. You know how it is.”

The three of them follow the music, and soon enough, Harry finds himself being dragged toward a pole by a bunch of young women, hands hastily tied behind his back. He never quite imagined a bachelorette’s party to be like... _ this _ , but it’s far too much for both him and Bright to handle, so he tries to get out of there as soon as possible. Which, unfortunately, proves impossible--as soon as he sits down at the bar to put more alcohol into him, he’s joined by Sophie, looking far too distressed for the night before her wedding.

“Do you have any children Harry?”

Loaded question. He pours himself a drink and gives a laugh, covering up the need to think about it. “Uh...I have the dogs, JB and Mr. Pickle, that’s the extent of my relationships. I’d have loved a daughter, would’ve spoiled her rotten.”

Harry having kids would have been disastrous. He never would have left Kingsman to be a good father, as much as he hates to admit it, and sure, he would try to make it work if he was forced. But leading a double life that close to home always felt like flying directly into the sun, and Harry always knew he wasn’t the fathering type. He’d settle for JB slobbering on his shoes any day.

“Is your father here?” Harry tries to deflect, and immediately he’s regretting that choice.

“I don’t know.”

“She’d be a shite agent,” Merlin comments, and Harry completely agrees. If he had a child, would they be an agent, too?

“I don’t know who my father is,” she continues, and before Harry can get another word in, she’s being hoisted off by a bunch of screaming girls. Harry turns back to the empty bar and finally acknowledges Merlin.

“We figured out that she’s not mine, right?”

Merlin hums, and Harry hears the sound of paper being rustled. “Aye, medical records don’t match up, timeline doesn’t make sense. You’re in the clear.”

“But...I think she wants me to be.”

“She wants  _ one  _ of you to be. If you have to say it’s you then so be it.”

Maybe this is his way to connect with people again. He downs the rest of the disgusting, fruity drink and stands up again, facing the crowd, ready to form another lie. And, potentially, a relationship.

But, watching a bunch of men and, more importantly, Eggsy, quite literally swing into the bachelorette party wearing animal masks proved to be a welcomed distraction for a little bit. There’s no point in being subtle with all the chaos, and Eggsy comes straight for him, pushing his mask up with a grin painted on his face.

“Come on, this might be my only time to dance with you like this,” Eggsy yells over the music, grabbing Harry’s hips and pulling him toward the action, and Harry follows along with little protest.

Harry always had an inkling that Eggsy danced dirty, from seeing him briefly in the nightclub test and knowing him for quite some time now, but even that couldn’t really prepare him. It’s a lot of gyrating, which Harry has really only had to whip out on _certain_ honeypot missions, but those were years ago. A man like him dancing so close to a man like Eggsy, faces close enough to feel each other’s breath, knees between legs and hands slotted together--it would be enough to draw an eye, but not here.

“One second,” Harry mumbles, and he swears he can hear Eggsy whine a little when he pulls away to approach Sophie as she passes in the most subtle way he knows how:

“Oh my god,” he yells, putting on his best ecstatic face, “I’m your father!”

“ _ Harry! _ ” she yells back, and Harry can tell that the other two have come to the same realization pretty recently by the look on her face. But, he has to commit.

“No  _ that’s  _ why you sent me the invite, you wanted your ol’ dad to walk you down the aisle. Well, I won’t let you down. I’ll be there!”

“Well? Are you her dad?” Eggsy asks when Harry slinks back, hands resting on his hips again with a look Harry can’t quite decipher on his face.

“Oh, God no.”

Harry grins as Eggsy cackles into the front of his shirt.

The moment is fleeting, however, when Sophie faints in the middle of the dance floor.

Everyone rushes to her aide, even as people yell for them to give her space--Harry knows she’s fine as soon as he kneels down next to her, but he has to tear himself away and watch as her friends take her to her room to lay down.

“She alright?” Eggsy asks, and when Harry looks over at him, he’s watching in the direction they’re going with the same amount of worry.

“She’ll be fine,” Harry sighs, resting a hand on Eggsy’s lower back with a small smile, “Where are you staying? I’d prefer to not sleep on that boat with the two competing fathers, if you don’t mind.”

“Now that’s  _ no  _ way to ask a complete stranger to take you to bed, is it?” Eggsy mocks, but he takes Harry’s hand and leads him to his room anyway.

* * *

When Harry slides out of the bed it’s barely sunrise, sitting on the edge of the  _ awfully  _ uncomfortable mattress and sorting through the day’s events in his head. He has to go do _something_ with Tanya, something that he’s absolutely dreading, considering her...eccentric personality. But, on the plus side, he gets to watch Sophie get married. Shit. Does  _ he  _ have to be the one to walk her down the aisle? Should he tell the other men that he knows he’s not the father, and that they should do it?

Harry sighs and scrubs his hands over his face, and he doesn’t move when Eggsy stretches out with a yawn. “Leavin’ so soon?”

“Got to get back on that damned boat,” he grumbles, turning to look at the other man and having the breath knocked out of him.

Sure, he’s seen Eggsy naked, but not like this: tanned, stretched out like he has not a care in the world, donning bruises Harry made around his collarbone with a sense of  _ pride _ . He starts a little when Eggsy chuckles, sitting up and scooting close to kiss Harry slowly.

“Gives me a bad sense of deja vu, ‘s all,” he murmurs when he pulls back, hands cupping Harry’s cheeks with a fond smile.

“How many times do I have to say sorry about that?” Harry quips back, and Eggsy laughs, flopping back on the bed.

“Reckon Merlin’ll let me take out this son of a bitch operation in time for the wedding?”

Harry breathes a laugh and stands up, pulling on the clothes from the night before (after finding them scattered around the room, because  _ finally  _ Eggsy could be reckless with Harry’s clothes and Harry wouldn’t protest). “Invitation didn’t come with a plus one.”

“Harry, there’s four people total on the island. Three’ll be down for the count after this stupid weapons deal goes south. So…”

“ _ Gary, _ ” Harry says as he stands, looking down at Eggsy with an amused smirk, “would you do me the utmost honor of accompanying me to my potential daughter’s wedding in place of one of the mysteriously dead men?”

“Oh, Harry Bright, you  _ flatter _ me.”

* * *

Merlin advises that it’s probably best that he tell the other men  _ something _ rather than nothing, and as soon as Harry gets back on the boat and throws on whatever passes for clothes in Bright’s eyes, he slips inside to approach Bill. He’d prefer to do it when Bill wasn’t wearing  _ just  _ a towel, but hey, when the time arises.

About four words into the conversation, Harry knows he’s fucked up. Bill very obviously thinks he’s  _ coming out _ , and while, well, it wouldn’t be completely inaccurate, Merlin is laughing so hard in his ear that he can barely hear anything else. He’s nervous--how do you tell someone that you  _ know  _ you’re not someone’s father, but it might be them?--and he trips over his words, only fueling Merlin’s laughter. And when Bill starts talking, and Harry mistakes the conversation for talking about his relationship with Rosie, Harry right thinks he hears Merlin bust a gut laughing.

“Two  _ idiots!”  _ Merlin cackles into his ear, and Harry is so close to breaking character that he’s glad Rosie pops her head in and makes Bill start moving.

(Later, when he tells both Merlin and Eggsy that Bill has matching eye tattoos on both knees  _ and  _ both asscheeks, they don’t believe him.)

Tanya’s pedal boat ride consists of Harry pedaling and Tanya pouting as though she’s doing all the work. Harry doesn’t mind so much, it’s a good way to get out any anxieties or adrenaline he has pent up from staying mostly immobile for a few days and this whole fiasco, but acting like he’s tired is more annoying than the actual pedaling.

“Donna must be tearing her hair out doing this wedding on her own,” Harry says finally, after ten solid minutes of pedaling in uncomfortable silence, “what would the father of the bride normally do?”

“Pay,” Tanya says without a second of deliberation, and Harry briefly thinks that  _ she’d  _ probably make a fine handler, “though,  _ my  _ dad drew the line at my third.”

It hits him like a bomb going off right in front of his face (again). He mutters “I see,” before, with out-of-character spontaneity, jumping into the water and swimming back to shore, ignoring the looks from those standing around on the beach as he runs back toward the boat where his things are kept.

“The  _ hell  _ are you doing, Arthur?” Merlin snaps in his ear, presumably shocked by the sound of water and the running.

“I might as well  _ try  _ to give her money.” He climbs onto the boat with ease, too much so that if anyone was watching, they’d think it was suspicious, and rifles through Bright’s things for a checkbook.

Merlin comments how it’s stupid the whole way he runs back, while he stops before the stairs to the event to straighten himself out as best as he can with a huge life vest on, and approaches Donna with the check behind his back.

“Harry, what are you doing here?” Donna sighs, obviously stressed out--the place looks gorgeous and all, but there’s no doubt it would weigh on someone.

“I uh, I just wanted to give you this,” he says, holding the check out toward Donna’s hands.

“I don’t mean  _ here  _ here, I mean, why are you on this,” Donna starts, plucking the check from Harry’s fingers, looking down at it, her face contorting into shock, “ _ iiisland? What?!  _ Is  _ this?” _

Huh. Harry thought it was a reasonable amount. “Now I realize you’ve had to tighten your belt a bit over the years, bringing up Sophie  _ on your own,  _ and I just wanted to make a--a  _ small _ contribution to the wedding.”

Donna searches his face, looking for  _ something _ , maybe giving away why he’s really doing this or maybe  _ regret,  _ and she shakes her head. “I can’t uh...I can’t accept this.”

So, Harry does the first thing he can think of. He turns on his heel, shouting over his shoulder, “ _ No,  _ no, no! Nope! No, nope, you’ll have to catch me first.”

He gets back to the boat, and Merlin’s fuming.

“ _ Three thousand pounds?  _ Are you  _ shitting  _ me?”

“I thought it seemed reasonable, you know?” Harry’s pacing around the downstairs of the boat, life jacket tossed off to the side and still dripping onto the floor. “Even if I’m  _ not  _ her father, I’d just end up wiring it to her under false pretenses anyway!”

Merlin sighs, and Harry knows he’s taken off his glasses to rub his temple angrily. Seems to be a common theme between them. “You’re lucky bankers have a high salary, otherwise Bright would be completely insane.”

“ _Please_ tell me you gave me a decent suit for Sophie’s wedding.”

Merlin doesn’t answer, but when Harry groans, he can hear laughter on the other end.

* * *

He’s getting ready for the wedding, straightening the button down as best as he can before sighing and giving up, when Eggsy is suddenly in his ear.

“You busy?”

He glances around to make sure no one is in earshot, “Do you think this is a tie event?”

“Keep it unbuttoned at the top. It suits you. Want to come help me get ready?”

“Do you really need help getting ready?”

“Hey, I just beat up a bunch of guys and shut down a weapons trade. I think I deserve it.”

Harry keeps the jacket folded over his arm as he goes through the town back to Eggsy’s room, knocking once before letting himself in. Eggsy is kneeling over his suitcase, some rather nasty bruises blooming over his back--gunshots through a bulletproof jacket, he knows far too well--but humming to himself nonetheless.

“How’d it go?” Harry asks, setting his jacket on the back of a  _ very  _ old wooden chair, and Eggsy stands up with a grunt.

“Shot a few times, otherwise fine,” he shrugs, holding up a black jacket unlike Harry’s own, “should we match?”

“I don’t think we have much of a choice, I’m afraid.”

Harry takes a seat on the bed and watches Eggsy finish getting dressed, tucking in the shirt with only a little grimacing and shrugging on the jacket, turning to look at Harry with an expectant smile.

“If you’re making me wear mine so unbuttoned, you have to do the same. It’s only fair.” Eggsy rolls his eyes and unbuttons the top one more, holding his hand out for Harry.

“May I take you to this lovely wedding?”

Harry doesn’t dignify him with a reply, just takes his hand and stands up, grabbing the jacket on the way out.

* * *

Of all the ways the wedding can go, the last possible way on Harry’s list is Donna admitting she has no idea which one of them is the father.

Eggsy nudges him to stand up when Donna claims that her father is here, and then proceeds to barely hide his laugh when Donna continues to say she doesn’t know which one it is and he has to sit back down in haste.

“You  _ asshole,”  _ Harry mutters into Eggsy’s ear, and Eggsy bites his lips to muffle his laughter while looking straight ahead.

When Sam stands up and starts making it a big-to-do, Harry shrinks a little in his seat and tries to think of a way out. Maybe...this is his chance to connect. To have friends in Bill and Sam, to take part in Sophie’s life alongside Donna. Eggsy’s trying to grab him to sit down when he stands up, but it’s far too late.

“Sorry, can I just--can I just--might I just butt in?”

The room erupts in murmurs of protest, but he can’t bring himself to care. This is the most important mission of his life. Sorry saving the world.

“No no, I just want to say: it’s  _ great _ to have even a  _ third  _ of Sophie. And I never thought I’d get even  _ that  _ much of a child.”

He takes a deep breath, and he wonders if Merlin and Eggsy can tell that he’s not just talking about Bright anymore. 

“Donna, you were the first girl I  _ ever  _ loved. Actually, you were the  _ last  _ girl I ever loved.”

He turns to glance back at Eggsy, whose eyes are shining, the same way he stared in the mirror in fitting room three, and his heart rises in his throat a little.

“Now, this gives me an excuse to come here  _ much  _ more often.”

Finally, when they call off the wedding, and then Sam  _ somehow  _ procures a wedding ring and Donna says yes, Harry is convinced that this is all an elaborate ruse.

* * *

The two of them sit on the docks well after Sophie and Sky leave on their adventure, Eggsy leaned back on his hands, staring at the stars like he’s never seen them before, while Harry looks out at the horizon, where the happy couple disappeared hours ago.

“Did you mean it?” Eggsy asks after a while, lolling his head to the side to watch Harry.

“What part?”

“Was Donna a first and last for you?”

He turns to look at Eggsy, looking between his eyes, sparkling in a similar way the ocean does in the dark, before nodding slowly. “After that I guess I stopped letting something as silly as love distract me from my job.”

“Do we distract you?” The innocence of the question shocks Harry into laughing, looking back out onto the water.

“Heavens, no. I’d say I regret not loving for so long after Donna, but…” he trails off, the words escaping him.

Eggsy moves closer and rests his head on Harry’s shoulder, humming quietly. “Was it me?”

“Piss off,” Harry laughs, and Eggsy chuckles quietly, “I think it was more when Merlin just... _ suddenly  _ shaved his head.”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Merlin quips in both of their ears, and Eggsy laughs as Harry continues.

“I come back from a recon mission in Thailand and Merlin is bald. You’d think he’d  _ warn  _ the guy he'd been shagging about such a drastic change .”

“I hate you.”

When they get back to Kingsman and debrief, Merlin hands Eggsy a picture that Harry knows  _ far  _ too well.

“No fucking  _ way  _ that was Harry,” Eggsy cackles, a picture of Harry Headbanger, in all his terrible, terrible glory, in his hands, waving it around like a flag.

“Alright, alright, I get it. I deserve this.”

“We need to get Headbanger back in service, like,  _ yesterday _ .” Merlin chuckles as Harry wrestles the picture from Eggsy, ultimately folding it and slipping it into his pocket.

“Are we done? Or do I have to pull out some of the frankly  _ terrible  _ wigs they put you in when you had to go out on the field?” Merlin glares, and Harry just cocks his head.

“Cheeky bastard.”


End file.
